C4

Brielle Ashford POV

"I came by to snag a free morning meal. You do not mind sharing your food, do you, Brielle?"

Ronan Graywolf's deep baritone cuts through the dense silence of the dining room. Garrick doesn't have any other close allies within the inner circle of the Thornvale Wolf Pack, and only Ronan would dare to walk into the alpha's den unannounced and act this casual.

Without waiting for me to give him permission, Ronan reaches over my shoulder, his large, muscular hand wrapping around my fork. His dark skin and the thick purple linen wraps covering his forearm brush against my cheek as he effortlessly slides the plate of roasted boar toward himself.

Garrick shifts his heavy frame in his chair, throwing a sharp, golden-eyed glare across the table. "Those belong to my wife, Ronan."

"Oh, is that so? My mistake, Brielle." Ronan chuckles darkly, flipping the fork in his hand and extending it back toward me.

His dark eyes lock onto mine, full of heavy subtext from the filth we shared hours ago at the Mooncrest Lodge. I stare at the silver metal he just put near his mouth. There is no way in hell I am going to put that back into my mouth after his lips have touched it, not with my husband sitting right across from us.

When I make no move to take the utensil, Garrick's jaw tightens, a sour, possessive growl ticking in his throat. "Just take the damn fork, Brielle. Stop making a scene over nothing. Members of the pack will start running their mouths if they sniff any strange tension in this house."

"The alpha speaks the absolute truth! I will be exceptionally cautious about where I put my mouth in the future." Ronan grins widely, flashing his sharp canine teeth before leaning closer to me. "You need to watch him closely too, Brielle. In our world, if an alpha starts eating from another female's plate, it means he is breaking the pack bond and cheating on his mate."

He deliberately drops a slow, playful wink right at me.

Across the table, Garrick goes completely rigid. The page of the pack gazette he is holding tears slightly under the sudden, violent pressure of his gripping fingers.

Seeing my cheating husband choke on his own medicine fills me with a twisted sense of dark satisfaction, but I keep my lips firmly pressed together, remaining silent.

Garrick forces out a rough, awkward cough, desperately trying to shift the conversation away from his own infidelity. He glares at his childhood friend. "I haven't smelled your scent around the territory lately, Ronan. Where the hell have you been running?"

"Do not even get me started on that mess. A close friend of mine found out her mate was mounting a pathetic little omega behind her back, so I had to help her track his scent down to catch them mid-knot," Ronan replies carelessly, taking a massive bite of the meat. "You should have smelled the blood in the air, Garrick! She gathered a whole pack of furious females, stripped the cheating alpha and his little homewrecker entirely naked, and dragged them by their necks through Ironwood Square for the entire territory to see. It was an absolute masterpiece."

Garrick coughs violently a second time, his face flushing a dark red as he reaches for a glass of water to soothe his suddenly dry, panicked throat.

"Brielle, if you ever need to track a cheating dog down in the Thornvale Forest, make sure you bring a pack elder or an official scribe along," Ronan presses on, his voice dripping with heavy mockery. "Garrick absolutely loathes having his private pack business exposed to the elders."

The moment those words leave Ronan's mouth, Garrick's hand trembles so hard he knocks the crystal glass straight over. The water splashes violently across his lap and puddles all over the polished wood counter. I can literally smell the sharp, sour tang of pure anxiety bleeding through his alpha aura.

"I... I need to go upstairs and change my trousers. You two can keep chatting." Garrick mumbles, shoving his chair back so fast it screeches against the floorboards. He practically flees the room with his tail tucked between his legs.

The second my husband clears the doorway, Ronan kicks his heavy boots up on the edge of the table and crosses his arms behind his head, smirking like a wolf who just swallowed a rabbit.

I turn my head to look at him, my eyes filled with silent gratitude for the way he just broken Garrick's composure. Before I can say a word, Ronan reaches out, catches me by my wide waist, and pulls my plus-size frame tightly across his lap.

My white complexion turns entirely crimson at the sudden, heavy intimacy. I press my small hands firmly against his massive, muscular chest, feeling the hard thumping of his heart through his shirt. "What do you think you are doing? He is literally right upstairs. He will smell you on me."

He lets go of my hips, but right before I can slide away, he leans forward and plants a hard, wet kiss directly onto my burning cheek. "You still have enough spirit to fight me, human? Clearly, I didn't ride you hard enough against the mattress last night."

His raw language leaves me completely flustered, my core throbbing with a sudden, wicked reminder of his massive size stretching me open hours ago.

The heavy thud of boots alerts us just as Garrick walks back into the dining space. Ronan stretches his arms out, grinning effortlessly. "Finally done washing yourself? Let's get moving to the Graywolf Dominion."

Instead of walking out, Garrick marches straight over to where I am standing. He lifts his chin slightly, throwing a cold glance at me as he points to his silk necktie. "Tie this for me, Brielle."

I blink, stunned. I haven't touched his clothes in months. The last time I tried to help him dress, he snarled that my human hands made the knot look messy and ugly. I have no idea why he is demanding this intimacy right now, right in front of his best friend.

I step forward, my short five-foot height forcing me to reach up high to loop the silk around his thick neck. My fingers work quickly, pulling the knot tight against his throat.

The moment I step back, Garrick suddenly leans down and presses his dry lips hard against my forehead. "Wait up for me at the cottage tonight," he says, his voice stiff and completely forced. "I am coming home early to have a proper dinner with you."

I let out a vague, neutral hum in response. Over Garrick's shoulder, I catch Ronan's facial expression shifting into something deeply mischievous. I watch his dark hand fly toward his pocket, pull something out, and swiftly flick it deep into the brass trash bin near the door.

A few minutes later, the two massive werewolves walk out toward the courtyard. Before the door even slams shut, I hear Garrick's agitated voice echoing from the stone pathway. "Where the hell is my transport pass? I thought I left the papers right in my coat pocket..."

"Maybe your human wife misplaced it," Ronan's voice replies smoothly from outside. Even without seeing his dark face, I can hear the absolute arrogance and pride vibrating in his throat as he adds, "Do not worry about it, alpha. I will have one of my pack servants purchase a new passage for you later today."

I walk over to the brass bin, leaning down to fish out the crumpled piece of heavy parchment Ronan threw away. Just as I suspected, it is Garrick's official transport ticket for his business trip to the Frostpeak Highlands.

A wry smile twists my lips. I pull my phone out from my apron pocket and pull up the blank screen, typing out a quick message to Ronan's hidden number: You are incredibly childish, wolf.